


Oasis in the Desert

by RedHawkeRevolver



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hawke is scared of spiders, Lyrium Withdrawal, Romance, Rylen is a little scared of Hawke, Sarcasm, Slow burn that goes fast, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHawkeRevolver/pseuds/RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke travels through the Western Approach, feeling as if everything for her is ending, but what she finds turns out to be a new beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood to write something a bit different so I started this not really knowing what I'd do with it. It turned out to be amazing fun! So much so that what I had originally intended to be a one shot will turn into two chapters. So here's the first one! Thanks so much for reading!

"Just mind your own business, _Templar_ , and I'll mind mine." The Champion of Kirkwall spit his old occupation at him with more venom than he would have expected from someone he'd never even met before.

"Nice to meet you as well, Champion. It's an honor to have you at Griffon Wing. The name's Rylen, and I'll be the _ex_ -Templar Inquisition officer in charge here for the duration of your stay." Rylen smiled, not bothering to hide his intrigued amusement. She scowled back at him and started gathering her packs while one of the stable hands took her horse. Rylen reached down to help her shoulder the heavier looking bags. She jerked away in annoyance and huffed.

"Oh, please! ' _Ex_ -Templar'? I can still smell the lyrium on you, _Templar_." She snarled.

Rylen bristled and his smile vanished. The mage hit a nerve. He'd been trying. The Commander proved it could be done, so Maker help him, he'd been trying. His dose was painfully low and getting lower as often as he could tolerate it, which lately, with the heat of the desert and the hard work keeping things livable out here in the Maker's wasteland, wasn't very often.

"All the same, Serah Hawke, welcome." He turned on his heel and walked away.

xxxx

_Fucking sandstorms,_ Hawke thought as she stood on the battlements looking out at miles of beige void. She'd tried three times now in the past two days to pack up and leave this Maker forsaken outpost but the storms thwarted her each time.

_Who even cares? Just leave and if the sand swallows you whole, so what?_

She was getting tired and the inactivity of waiting wasn't helping. She needed to keep moving, always moving, doing, fighting, _running_ …

Hawke rubbed her eyes wearily and leaned over the wall to look down when she heard distant shouting. She saw the Knight-Captain who had greeted her when she arrived.

_Rylen_. If Varric hadn't warned her he was a Templar before she met him, she would have guessed anyway. He had the look about him even without the armor and frilly skirts. He was being very animated at the moment waving his arms around and yelling, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. The men he was barking at scattered, presumably to follow the orders they'd just been given. When he was standing alone, Hawke saw him shake his head and rub his forehead with one gloved hand. When he looked back up, his eyes traveled all the way to the top of the fortress wall where Hawke stood looking down at him.

She straightened and retreated, not interested in finding out if he'd seen her.

xxxx

Rylen braced himself and threw back another shot of...whatever it was he was drinking. He'd never been picky about alcohol, which was a good thing out here. He leaned back in his chair and looked around Griffon Wing's makeshift canteen. They didn't have clean water, but they had a bar and booze. Priorities.

He let out a long sigh. He'd have to deal with the tainted well issue sooner rather than later. Hopefully before the wildlife reclaimed the place and all that was left of the Inquisition's farthest outpost were sun-dried bones and swords. For now, though, he was going to try and relax the rest of the evening. It was already late, but he knew sleep would elude him, so he was in no hurry to turn in.

A few of his soldiers entered and saluted him before they sat to indulge in their own drinks. He nodded back at them. At least he had good men around him here. Despite the less than hospitable surroundings and the long list of jobs that needed doing, he thanked the Maker again for giving him this command. He liked to keep busy and out here things were simple. No simpering nobles, no diplomats, no intrigue. Just how he liked it. Simple. An enemy? Kill it. A fire? Put it out. A demon? Smite it.

_Smiting demons...fuck it all. Now you'll be thinking of lyrium the whole fucking night._

Another reason why he liked Griffon Wing. He'd had his fill of fighting demons. He was perfectly happy with the varghests and spiders, thanks very much. Very little here required him to call on his Templar abilities. It was probably the only reason he'd been able to cut the contents of his lyrium philter as much as he had.

_Still so far to go though…_

He sighed again and poured himself another shot from the unlabeled bottle of spirits sitting on the table in front of him. Just as he finished it, savoring the burn and the nice numb feeling it left in his head, someone new walked in.

All the eyes in the room turned to see the Champion of Kirkwall, covered in sand, standing in the doorway. She had a mean frown on her face as she walked inside, dusting herself off. She sat down at an empty table and looked around the room, waving over one of the barmaids for a drink.

_Why the void not?_ Rylen thought as he rose and picked up his bottle and his glass. The room spun for a moment before he balanced himself. _Huh. Drunk. Reason enough I suppose._ He intercepted Hawke's drink order, grabbed an empty glass and sat down at her table. She looked angry at his intrusion but she didn't say anything. He poured them both a drink from his bottle.

"Try to leave again, Champion?" He asked, sipping at the shot this time instead of pounding it. He might already be drunk but there was no need to get sloppy.

"I'll be gone soon enough, Templar, these storms can't last forever." She sounded tired, but not the kind of tired that would be helped by sleep.

"You can stay as long as you like, Hawke." He tried to sound sincere. He was sincere. She looked like someone who needed a break, needed to rest. He knew what that looked like. Maker, he knew what that _felt_ like. Isn't that why Cullen had sent him out here in the first place? The Commander had seen it in him. He needed a change of pace. Somewhere less complicated but still challenging. _Somewhere he could try to break free…_

"Where are you headed to so urgently anyway, if I may ask?"

At first, Hawke looked like she wasn't going to answer, but eventually she drank her shot and spoke. "I'm trying to get to Weisshaupt to help what's left of the Wardens there." Her voice sounded small, not at all having the bluster she'd used since she arrived. There was a story there, but he wasn't about to pry it out of her.

"That's a long ways away." He commented while he poured her another drink. "This might be the last civilized place you come to until you reach your destination." He winked at her.

To his surprise, she actually smiled at his sarcasm. "I just don't like being so idle. I hate sitting here doing nothing waiting for the storms to pass."

Rylen knew he might regret it but, at this point, the alcohol was talking more than he was. With a mischievous glint in his eyes he offered her a job. "Care to help us kill some things while you wait?"

xxxx

Hawke pulled the blade of her staff free from the burning varghest at her feet. This was the best she'd felt in days.

Despite the wicked hangover she had from whatever it was the Knight-Captain had given her to drink last night, she felt energized. She met Rylen and a few of his men at dawn to assist them in clearing out some local vermin from a nearby creek. There was nothing like a good fight to pull her out of a funk.

She was glad to be given the opportunity to do something with herself, but not glad enough to actually thank the Templar for offering it to her. She was helping them, after all.

Rylen was wiping his sword clean when he addressed the group. "I want to tackle that last cave with the spiders before we head back. There's enough of us. Champion, do you feel up to it?"

Hawke froze. _Fucking Spiders._

"Of course." She lied. "Lead the way."

xxxx

If he hadn't seen it himself, he never would have guessed it. The Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of the Arishok, battle mage, adventurer and all around dangerous fucker _was scared of spiders_.

He didn't think the other men could tell, she hid it so well, but there was no way she could disguise it from him. He had three sisters and he and his older brother were merciless pranksters. Many a multi-legged critter had ended up under sheets, inside dressers and placed strategically atop dolls to the point where there was so much phobia cultivated in his household that even if he hadn't wanted to join the Templars his parents might have sent him just to get him out of the house and have some peace from screaming girls.

Despite her fear, Hawke didn't miss a beat. She contributed, killed as many of the creatures as the rest of them, used her magic to heal a few minor injuries and then stood as stoic as possible with a white knuckled death grip on her staff while waiting for direction.

Rylen decided to handle things delicately. "I want the rest of you to clean up these corpses then head back to the keep. We don't need them attracting any more animals. Serah Hawke and I will head back now and stop back at the oasis to take care of the varghest bodies. Good work all."

His men nodded and started piling up the dead spiders to burn. Hawke remained standing still. Rylen came up to her, gently put his hand on her arm and guided her out of the cave into the sweltering sun. She was trembling slightly under his touch. She allowed him to lead her away from the spiders but once they were clear of the cave, she snatched her arm back and sat down on the ground, letting out a shaky breath.

Rylen sat down on a rock, a respectable distance away and gave her time to collect herself. "Sorry about that. If I'd know you didn't care for spiders, I wouldn't have dragged you along. You could have said something though, you know."

When she stood up, she was the Champion again. "Fuck you." She snarled, then turned and stormed off.

He smiled and watched the angry sway of her hips as she walked away. He tried to remember the last time he'd been so intrigued by a woman and the answer he came up with was _never_.

xxxx

Five weeks. Five weeks had passed with one impediment after another keeping her at Griffon Wing. When the storms finally cleared, there were problems with more varghests, then wyverns, supply lines, provisions and finally, dragons. Despite the spider incident, she found herself tagging along with Rylen and his men whenever they ventured outside the keep to kill things.

She admitted she was beginning to tolerate the Griffon Wing's Templar commander. At first she likened it to the same way she tolerated Cullen back in Kirkwall. They were both good men, good leaders, but if she was honest with herself, she much preferred Rylen as a person and though she wasn't quite ready to admit it she was growing to like the man.

He had an ease about him, informal, irreverent, practical. She appreciated practicality. And where 'Curly', as Varric now called him, was always so painfully pretty, Rylen was very different. Hawke had had enough of pretty blonds to last her a lifetime. Rylen's rugged exterior and demeanor to match made him much more tolerable than most Templars she'd had the misfortune of knowing. And he had the bluest eyes...

xxxx

It had become a 'regular thing' for Hawke to join him for a drink on the nights they returned to the keep from a cleanup job but tonight, Hawke was nowhere to be found and Rylen had already finished half a bottle of very questionable purple liquor. They never spoke about much. A few pleasantries here and there, which for Hawke meant not outright insulting him. They would both back away and choose instead to nurse their drink and be silent when the conversation threatened to become more intimate.

He learned her brother was a warden, which was likely her impetus for involving herself with them. She didn't speak very much of her brother, but if he remembered correctly from that book Varric wrote, the man never made it back to Kirkwall, having joined the wardens after Hawke's trip into the deep roads.

Rylen actually owned his own copy of _Tale of the Champion_. In fact, he'd taken it right out of the Commander's hands and saved it from an ignoble end in the fire. Cullen had grumbled at the time that it 'wasn't much of a read' which made Rylen want to read it more if only to see what Varric had to say that Cullen clearly wanted to burn. After all that, however, he found the book lacking in any embarrassing stories about the Commander and instead found the whole thing rather sad.

He didn't consider life constantly shitting on someone much of an adventure and he certainly didn't consider it a great romance that someone Hawke had supposedly loved, if Varric was to be believed, betrayed her as the mage Anders had. But maybe that was just him liking his relationships a little less angst filled and a great deal less complicated.

After spending these past few weeks with Hawke, Rylen wondered how she lived through it all. She seemed... _more like him_ , and less like any of the things he'd heard about her from other sources, 'trouble-starter' being among the most frequent appellations. Then again, maybe that's why she was so prickly about everything. If he'd had to deal with half the shitstorm drama that Varric described in his book, he'd be lashing out at everyone too and with a lot more than just a scathing bit of sarcasm.

He decided to go and find her. Picking up the bottle and two glasses, he left the canteen.

xxxx

Rylen found her on the battlements. She crumpled the letter in her fist and shoved it in her pocket. Tears were wiped away and she turned to face the sand dunes, hoping he didn't need anything from her. She wasn't in the mood for company.

Sadly, her luck had never been that good. He came up and stood right next to her, placing a half empty bottle of purple alcohol on the wall in front of her. He was about to set two glasses down also, but then he looked at her face, looked at the glasses, then tossed them over the side of the keep.

"You look like you're not really in the mood for glasses, so why don't you just drink out of the bottle. I took care of the top half. You can have the rest."

He leaned on the wall, looking out at the dark horizon and didn't say another word. She considered walking away. She wanted to be alone.

_Do you really want to be alone? Isn't that the problem?_

She didn't respond to the conspiratorial voice in her head, but she did take the bottle and start drinking. And she stayed. By the time she emptied the thing a long while later, she was drunk and Rylen was still standing next to her, silent.

She held the neck of the empty bottle, backed up, took aim and hurled the thing out into the night, aiming for the distant moons. On another foolish impulse she took the crumpled letter from her pocket and hurled that off into the distance as well.

"Bad news in that letter, I take it?" Rylen finally spoke.

"Just news. Nothing I didn't already know. Now I just know for sure." _What was she doing?_ She had no intentions of sharing her business with a Templar. And yet, she found herself unable to stop. "My brother, the warden. I had assumed when I couldn't contact him...there really wasn't any hope…" She closed her eyes against new tears that threatened to fall. "I got confirmation that he's dead." Swiping at her running nose, she scrambled back into her fort of emotional defenses that for reasons unknown to her had momentarily crumbled in the face of an easy going ex-Templar who looked just as tired as she did. "Anyway, as I said, I already knew."

Hawke turned to make a hasty retreat, but Rylen caught her arm. She neither pulled away nor offered a biting insult. She just looked down and stared at his hand.

"I don't know how badly the wardens need your help, but you've been helpful here and we could use you. If you stayed." His hand fell from her and he looked away back out at the sand. "This is hardly a mansion in Kirkwall, but I suppose it's been awhile since you lived like that. At least this is far away from everything. Back there."

Rylen nodded his head in a nonspecific direction "back there", indicating the rest of the world outside this oasis in the desert.

"It's quiet here despite all the shit we've had to deal with. I like that. Makes things easier. Especially when…"

He stopped. And Hawke found herself wanting to hear more of what he was going to say.

"Well, anyway, consider staying. This isn't such a bad place for the Champion of Kirkwall to spend some time. Maybe she'll find some peace." The last was mumbled under his breath as he walked away, but she heard it.

xxxx

"Commander, good to see you. Hope you and the Inquisitor had a nice ride through the dunes and rocks. The barren wastes are lovely this time of year." Rylen waved his arm out at the vastness of the desert.

Cullen snorted. "Yes, and the local fauna are so very welcoming. We only got attacked six times since we left camp and that last pack of hyenas didn't really seem to have their heart in trying to eat us."

"Troops are ready for inspection whenever you are, ser."

"It can wait until the Inquisitor has settled in. She's interested in seeing everything you've accomplished in so short a time. We had a little bet about it. I won."

Rylen laughed. "Please tell me you were betting _on_ me and not against me?"

"Of course I bet on you. I knew you could whip this place into shape in no time. The hard part was getting Evelyn and Leliana to abandon the ridiculous idea they had of preserving every indigenous beast in the Approach no matter how dangerous. You can thank me later for saving you time and giving the order to clear the animals out."

"I definitely owe you for that then."

Cullen was about to speak again when his eye caught sight of something behind Rylen. Someone, actually. He squinted in the sunlight. "Is that…?"

Rylen turned to follow the Commander's gaze. "Mmhm. Marian Hawke. She's been here several weeks now, passing through on her way to Weisshaupt. She's been very helpful with all the work of making this place safe and livable. Quite the fighter. She really is as dauntless as they say." _As long as there aren't any spiders._

"She's been 'passing through' for _several weeks_? You never sent word Hawke was here. When is she leaving?"

"Well, she's been trying to leave since she arrived but sandstorms held her up for a while and then a few other things. I'm ah...I'm not sure when she'll be on her way." _Unless she stays…_

Cullen frowned suspiciously. "Did she ask you to keep her presence here a secret? Nothing is straightforward where Hawke is concerned."

"Not at all, Commander. I just got the impression that she might not want it advertised. She's a more private person than people realize given her history in the public eye." _And she needed some breathing space._

"Have you...gotten to know her well?" Cullen looked at him curiously.

_Not as well as I'd like._

"No, Commander. Not really."

xxxx

This time, it was Hawke who sat drinking alone. She hid in the shadows of a corner table staring at her cup. She'd barely made it two sips into her ale when she redirected her stare at the door.

Each time it opened to reveal someone other than Rylen she would look away and shift in her seat, meaning to get up and leave but then she'd settle back in and lift her eyes once again to the door.

They hadn't gone out on any odd jobs that day. There was no reason to think they would be meeting for their requisite drink but still, there she sat. She reasoned his absence meant he was probably with Cullen and the Inquisitor. Hawke saw them arrive earlier in the day and had subsequently made herself scarce trying to avoid them. She should have long been off and out of Inquisition territory. She should have long been out of any charted territory, so as to spare the rest of civilized Thedas her black cloud. Nothing good had ever come from her presence. For all she knew, the Maker was only cursing poor Rylen with spiders and varghests to spite her and not him.

He didn't seem to mind though, neither the unruly beasts nor her presence, not that she hadn't been acting any less surly than the beasts. In fact, nothing seemed to bother him. Not the inhospitable climate, not the never ending hard work and not her rude exchanges with him. He was easygoing and steady, quiet but always ready with a laugh and a smile for his men and for her. He was very different from what she'd come to expect in an acquaintance. _Friend?_

He sought nothing from her, asked nothing of her. He knew who she was but he didn't seem to care about her history or her money or her magic. She found herself wondering over a new state of mind she seemed to be in these past few weeks working with him. She wasn't trying to help anyone or save them. She wasn't trying to prove anything. She wasn't responsible for anything. It was... _easy_. And... _nice_. And she was starting to feel like a different person, someone she actually liked, who didn't have to be so many things to so many people. Someone who could just _be_.

She abruptly decided she didn't want to be someone who sat alone in a bar, so she got up and went to find Rylen.

Hawke knew he kept an office, though he never seemed to be in it. He was always with his men or out in the field. It wasn't late enough for him to have retired so she decided to check the office first in case he was discussing business with Cullen.

Hawke knocked on the door and peeked her head inside after a voice from within called out for her to enter. Cullen did happen to be in the office, but he was alone.

"I...uh...I was just looking for Rylen." She said hastily then started to back out of the doorway not wanting to have to say anything more to the 'former' Templar she once knew, who once knew her.

"Hawke, wait!"

_No such luck._ She rolled her eyes, irritated for having put herself in this stupid position when only moment ago she'd been feeling good and not weighed down by the past as much as usual. She should know by now the past would always find her. Flinging the door open, she bit out, "What?"

Cullen held up his hands in a gesture of peace and offered a small smile. His voice was softer when he spoke again. "I just wanted to say hello and thank you for all your assistance here. Rylen is grateful for it and he's not a man easily impressed. Although you always did know how to get a job done and that's a quality he both appreciates and shares."

Hawke smoothed down her raised hackles but she remained silent. Cullen nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "If you need to speak with him, I believe he took a walk outside the keep. While I'm here I wanted to give him a break. He is…"

The Commander had been about to say something but then he stopped and seemed to search for different words. He opted for something vague. "He's been under a great deal of strain. There are things he's dealing with that I have experience with. He needed a night off, but also speaking from experience, he may not want to be alone, so if you still want to go and find him…" His voice drifted off and it was quiet in the small room until Hawke spoke.

"I...I guess I will go look for him. Thanks Knight-Cap…" She stopped herself. "Thanks, _Cullen_." Hawke decided to extend herself just a bit more. "It's nice to see you looking well."

"And you Hawke." They nodded amicably at one another, perhaps more amicably than they ever had in their past, and she left. It was only after she shut the door and was several steps down the corridor that she realized the ex-Templar Inquisition Commander _didn't_ smell like lyrium.

xxxx

Rylen discharged a holy smite at the giant boulder in front of him. Despite the fact that nights in the desert were every bit as cold as they were in Ferelden, he wore nothing but his leather trousers and boots, and even then he was sweating as if the sun was beating down. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, his shoulders hurt, his arms hurt and his chest _burned_ with so many convoluted emotions, he took Cullen up on his offer, _order more like_ , to take a night off. He'd wandered around for little while, tried to lay down in bed, tried to eat, but nothing was helping him relax or _forget_.

He thought he'd been doing well and had even managed to lower his dose the previous week, but it always seemed to catch up to him at some point and he would end up like this. Tired, frustrated, aching, angry, _wanting, craving_ …

He growled and shook his head trying to interrupt the stream of unproductive thoughts. Squaring up again, he extended a hand, stared down the big rock and let loose again with his powers. The ground beneath him shook with the force of his attack and parts of the stone cracked and crumbled away.

Despite his dwindling lyrium dose, his Templar abilities hadn't changed or weakened. It was as if, in the absence of lyrium, the _Templar_ in him would consume the part of him that was _Rylen_ before it surrendered itself to insignificance.

He didn't know why he felt the need to come out here and repeatedly discharge his power into an innocent rock. He knew it was still there, he didn't need to test it. He also knew that no matter how many times he did it, it wouldn't make it go away. He couldn't purge it out of his system. Doing this would just make him tired and make his craving worse in the end. Yet here he was.

He lifted his hand and felt the tingle of force in his fingertips but before he could strike out with it, someone shouted at him. He turned quickly, ready to let the attack fly if whoever was approaching was a threat. Instead of an enemy, however, he was met by Hawke, her arms held up and her magic crackling around her.

"Put down that smite you're holding, it's only me." She said calmly, despite the swell of her own powers.

Rylen quickly lowered his hands. "Hawke, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...I wasn't…" He took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Do you need something? Is everything alright?"

Hawke also lowered her hands. "Actually, I came out here to ask you that. I wasn't expecting a demonstration of how effective you still are at silencing a mage." He was about to respond, but she immediately looked contrite and stopped him by retracting her statement. "No. Wait. That wasn't what I meant. I just meant…" She rolled her eyes, groaned, and then sighed. He could relate to how she felt.

"It's fine, Hawke, I'm not offended." He wasn't. He was just tired and now he was also aggravated at himself for letting his childish frustrations get the better of him and getting caught in the process.

"Yes, well, you should be offended. I'm offensive. I always have been." She was looking down at the ground. "I don't mean it, but it's…"

"It's hard. I know." He didn't need for her to explain. He couldn't make out her expression in the scant moonlight that was filtered through a few passing clouds, but he watched as she reached into her jacket, pulled out a flask and handed it to him.

"It isn't alcohol. It's a healing draught. You wouldn't think it, but I'm not bad at cooking up some decent potions. I learned a lot from…" She stopped herself before she said his name. She didn't need to say it and she didn't seem to want to say it. "Anyway, I promise it will help."

_Help? Does she know…?_

Before he could make an excuse, she continued. "I ran into Cullen. He's off of it, isn't he? Did he order all the Templars off the stuff?"

"Maker, no!" Rylen shook his head vehemently. "He would never impose that kind of order. Even though most of us wish he would…" He took the flask from Hawke, uncorked it and took a test sip. Amazingly, it was delicious. It tasted of citrus and honey.

She must have seen the appreciation on his face for not giving him something that tasted like piss and elfroot. She winked at him. "Told you I was good."

He couldn't help but laugh.

"Look, if you don't want to talk about this with me, you don't have to, I just thought that would help, so I hope it does. I'll, um, just say good night then." She turned to walk away but he stopped her.

"I've been cutting back my dose in increments. It's a long process. The Commander, he just stopped, but _fucking void_ , I don't know how he did it because this is...this is just…" Words that expressed the magnitude of the struggle he was imposing upon himself didn't exist. At least not in the state of mind he was in right now.

Hawke made a disgusted noise. "I know how he did it. He's a stubborn bastard who's too big a goody goody pain in the arse to die. He probably prayed his way through the withdrawals, the self-righteous dick."

"He and I are friends, you know." Rylen replied blandly.

"Sorry." She didn't seem sorry. "Anyway, I've seen what it looks like to come off it. For what it's worth, I didn't know you were trying, but now that I do, I have to say, I didn't think it would be possible to do it with such fortitude and grace."

The clouds cleared in that moment and bright light from the moons shone across her face. Rylen saw something there he hadn't seen before. He'd wondered. He'd hoped. He'd sat patiently outside her formidable defenses. And now he saw it in her eyes.

_Honesty._

He slowly walked over to her. His heart was racing, but he made an excuse to himself that it was from his previous exertions. He came to stand before her. She looked up at him, silent, not moving, allowing a Templar who was trying not to be one inside her space. He could feel her magic move and sway around her like a soft breeze. She wasn't hiding it, but neither was she flaunting it. She was being honest with it.

The taste of her potion still on his lips complimented the subtle sweet waft of scent from her hair that he was close enough to notice. Thoughts of lyrium still buzzed at the back of his mind and the song of it still pulsed in his blood, but for the moment, it was less loud, less insistent. If this was the result of being near her, _the real her_ , he wanted to learn more.

He smiled and extended his hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Marian. My name is Rylen."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. But really. We saw this coming.

Hawke hadn't spoken to Rylen again since that night he finished her potion while they sat in the sand and talked. It was surreal, talking to someone about herself. Simple things. Normal things. He asked her what her favorite food was and if she'd ever been to Starkhaven. He didn't ask her anything about Kirkwall. The cynical part of her thought it was probably because he already read the book. The part of her she wanted to believe thought it was because he wanted to get to know her. Marian. Not the Champion.

She asked questions about him as well, but she was surprised to find that she had trouble sticking to mundane things. Small talk wasn't really something she was good at apparently. Now that the door was opened, she felt a familiar urge to dive through it, head first. It was all very pleasant knowing he was the youngest of five siblings and his parents were masons but she wanted to know more, to know _him_.

She wanted to know the man who took walks alone in the desert so he could smite boulders. Had he ever been hurt? Had he ever loved? She wanted to know what made his heart beat faster and his head spin. What were the man's limits? His depths?

When they finally parted it was with reserved smiles, another handshake and a promise to speak again soon, but as she lay awake in her borrowed bed that night she started questioning her instincts. It wasn't like her to be reserved. Hawke only knew how to be 'all in'. It was that need to commit herself completely, however, that had always gotten her into trouble, which was basically her whole life up to this point. Trouble. She didn't need any more, least of all from a Templar. A Templar! Andraste's arse, what was she thinking?

_You're thinking you still want a chance to be happy..._

xxxx

"She's avoiding me." Rylen said with a wry smile.

The Commander looked up from his reports and squinted in the midday sun shining brightly down onto the courtyard. "Hm? Who?"

Rylen nodded in the direction of Hawke who had just appeared outside. She scanned the area, saw him and then immediately busied herself with talking to a merchant in a nearby stall. After she bought something, a few people came up to her and she actually humored them by conversing, all while shooting glances in his direction. It was adorable, watching her squirm, but it wasn't moving things forward for them and he definitely wanted to move forward.

Cullen looked to where Rylen's attention was focused and shook his head. It wasn't so much a disapproving gesture as it was one of resignation.

"Of all the women in Thedas, you want _her_?"

Rylen laughed. "I think she has a similar opinion of you, Ser."

"Yes. She does. And I can't even begin to count the number of times she told me to my face just what she thought of _me_ , of _Templars_ and of ' _dolts with big swords in general_ ', in that order."

Rylen shrugged, still wearing a wide grin. "I like a challenge."

Cullen crossed his arms, and looked as if he was considering war strategy. "Well, she was quite civil to me the other night when she came looking for you. Maybe she's changing."

Rylen wasn't so sure.

_Maybe she's just learning how to be herself._

xxxx

Hawke was trying to find other things to do, but her attention kept veering over to where Rylen stood talking with Cullen. She was about to force herself to go back inside when Inquisitor Trevelyan called out to her.

"Hawke! It's good to see you again. I've been wanting to say hello to you since we arrived. I also wanted to thank you for helping the Knight-Captain."

There was a curious inflection to the Inquisitor's offer of thanks. Hawke wondered if she was talking about killing varghests or if she was referring to helping Rylen with his withdrawal symptoms.

Irritation started creeping in over exactly how much information had been passed between Rylen and his Templar brother and from him to the Inquisitor. She didn't so much mind the two men talking but it annoyed her to have her private business turned into pillow talk between lovers. Not to mention, thinking of Cullen as anyone's lover made her want to gag. So she took it out on Lady Trevelyan.

Narrowing her eyes and very obviously trying to pick a fight, Hawke did what she did best and started running at the mouth. "I don't get it, _Your Worship_." When she said the Inquisitor's honorific, the two words couldn't have sounded more like an insult than if she'd said ' _You Dumb Nug'_ , which was exactly the tone she was going for. "You were in a Circle. How can you stand to let that _Templar_ touch you."

To her credit, Lady Trevelyan didn't seem fazed. "And you _weren't_ in a circle, Hawke. So if anyone should be able to give a Templar the benefit of the doubt, it should be you, _right_?" Trevelyan looked dreamily over at her Commander. "Plus, I love him."

Hawke rolled her eyes and tried not to vomit in her mouth. "You know he said mages weren't people, _right_?"

"I know." Trevelyan said matter-of-factly. "He told me. People change. Maybe you should try it."

Hawke wanted to blast the smirk right off the other woman's face, but she didn't. She just walked away. Maybe she was already changing.

Later that evening, Hawke was facing another sleepless night staring at the ceiling when a knock at her door startled her. She opened it to find Rylen. He looked like he'd been out in the desert silencing shadows again. His bare chest glistened with sweat and his hair was tussled by the wind. For a moment she was distracted by the rippling planes of his muscles and the way the intricate patterns of his tattoos traveled across his torso, up his shoulders and down both of his arms.

Her mouth hung open and the curse that she had ready over being disturbed died before it could be spoken. She didn't trust herself to be the first to talk. Fortunately, he did.

"I'm not Cullen."

Bewildered and feeling as if she missed part of this conversation, she pried her gaze away from his body and looked up at his eyes. _Fuck. His eyes. Not really less distracting…_

"What?" She asked dumbly.

"You heard me. I'm not Meredith Stannard either, or any other Templar you've met before."

"I know that." She huffed.

His voice got serious. "And I'm not Anders."

Hawke leveled an icy glare at him, but was met with an infuriatingly calm pair of blue eyes. She countered his even temper with a bitter retort. "Fine. I get it. You're neither a tool of mage oppression nor are you a lying terrorist. Congratulations." She tried to slam the door in his face, but he caught it with one strong arm and gently, but insistently, pushed his way past her to enter the room.

"I didn't invite you in here!" She shouted impotently, feeling her ire bubble up even as she wondered why she was getting so angry.

"Well, you can register a complaint with the commanding officer... _oh, wait!_ That's me."

It surprised Hawke that his boyish white-toothed grin didn't aggravate her more. In fact, she found herself at a loss for words and she just stood there as he sat down in a chair.

He leaned back, still smiling. "You know, Cullen and the Inquisitor think I'm crazy for pursuing you."

"Pursuing me?" Hawke's heart beat faster. She tried to ignore it. "Is that what you call this? There isn't a woman in Thedas who would fall for this kind of pursuit."

"How about this kind…" Faster than a large man should have been able to move, Rylen rose, closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It was indelicate and he almost missed her lips. All at once she was flooded by the feeling of him and her Maker-damned curiosity got the better of her again, preventing her from pulling away or pushing him back. The heat coming off his bare skin was intense and it radiated, drawing her into a pocket of warmth despite the chill of night. His lips were chapped and rough against hers and his unshaven stubble scratched at her face. His hands found her waist and pulled her closer with a grip that was firm, decisive and she felt _grounded_ by it. He smelled of sweat and sand and the desert air. He was a million little bursts of sensation, strange, different, _new_.

When she kissed him back, she wasn't Hawke. Hawke was bold and ardent. Passionate and confident. The woman who kissed him back was guarded but _wanting_. Accepting, but hesitant. She pushed herself up on her toes and pressed into him slowly, warily. For a brief second, she felt him smile against her lips and then he deepened their kiss. The hand that held her waist now rose to cup her face and he tilted their heads to taste more of her and allow her to taste of him. She enjoyed how his fingers caressed her jaw and tangled into her hair. She savored the slide of his tongue against hers and she shivered with unexpected and over-whelming arousal when he whispered to her.

"Marian…" he said. The sound of her name rolling off his lips in his Starkhaven brogue made her knees weak.

_Marian. Is that who she was to him? Not Hawke. No one ever called her Marian. She wanted to be Marian…_

He was still holding her face and looking down at her when he asked her a question. "So would you fall for that then?"

She blinked away the haze of desire and tried to focus on his blue eyes. "I...um...yes." Was all she could manage to say.

xxxx

The sun rose and set and rose and set. The Commander and the Inquisitor departed Griffon Wing. Hawke remained. The moons phased in and out. The Inquisitor returned again, this time with Varric in her party.

"So. Hawke. I've heard some things."

She and Varric stood idly in the courtyard, watching the bustle of the fort as it passed them by.

"About?" She asked cagily.

"You. And Tatts."

Hawke looked down at Varric. "Tatts?"

"You can play dumb all you want. But just so you know, there's been talk. And I know you're not much for people in your business."

"You mean like having a book published about me?"

"That's different. We've been over this. You love me."

Hawke shook her head and quipped, "According to you, I apparently love the Knight-Captain."

"Huh. So it's not true then? Too bad. Would have made for a great sequel."

Just then, Rylen came through the main gates. He'd been out inspecting the nearby camps. He caught sight of Hawke and smiled broadly, striding with purpose over to where she stood with Varric. Hawke held her breath.

Rylen nodded politely to Varric as he approached, but swooped down on Hawke and swept her up into a tight embrace, followed by a passionate kiss. In front of the whole fort. In the light of day.

_Cheeky bastard. He did it on purpose._

That knowledge somehow didn't stop Hawke from letting it happen. The fluttering in her stomach and the tingle on her skin from his touch didn't stop when he set her down.

"I missed you." He said breathlessly when they pulled apart, his damn accent making the fluttering and tingling worse.

"It's only been three days." Hawke groused. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in an effort to conceal the blush rising into her face that she was far too old and far too jaded to wear.

Before he could respond, one of his men called out to him. He offered her an apology, nodded to Varric again and then left them to tend to his business. Varric looked back and forth several times between Hawke and the ex-Templar.

"Well, shit."

xxxx

Rylen was in his office for a change. While he'd been gone, a pile of reports found their way to his seldom-used desk. He wanted to finish his work quickly so he could find Marian. Other than the brief kiss earlier, there had been no opportunity to see her all day. He almost chuckled to himself remembering the look on her dwarf friend's face at the affectionate greeting. He'd done it on purpose, of course.

Starting with the night he first kissed her, he made it a point to find subtle, _and not so subtle_ , ways to remind her that he had nothing to do with her past and that she was free to be free of that past with him. She often still bristled at him, or complained or lobbed a sarcastic barb his way but he didn't really care. Taking a chance at that kiss this morning was a bold move and he half expected he would need to deflect an irate fireball. He was pleasantly surprised that he escaped both unsinged and with the reward of making her blush like a Chantry sister. And he'd made his fair share of those blush in the past, but none of them were like Marian.

He'd been spending nearly all of his spare time with her. She continued to brew him her healing potions which helped immensely and he was even able to cut back on his philter. When the reduced dose caught up with him again, she seemed to sense it and sought him out despite his attempt to keep her apart from the consequences of his addiction by retreating to solitude in the desert. She even offered to spar with him. At first, he hesitated. Getting caught smiting rocks was one thing but actually showing her how much of a Templar he still was? That was very different. It was she, however, who persisted.

_"You may not feel as though your Templar abilities have lessened, but if you continue to lower your lyrium dose they will. If we spar when you feel like this, we can gauge your powers. I'll be able to tell when they start to dwindle. You'll have some measure that you're making progress and getting it out of your system, so you know you're not suffering in vain, that there's an end to it, that you'll be free."_

Even through the pain of the withdrawals, his gut clenched at her words. He wondered how long she'd been waiting to be free too.

So they sparred. She didn't hold back and neither did he. Though they never came to harm at the other's hands, they both respected the fact that if they weren't careful, they could, and in more ways than just the physical.

It was for that reason, he was trying to take it slow. For both their sakes. But _Andraste's arse_ it was getting hard. She was definitely a handful, his Hawke.

_His. Maker damn her, he wanted to make her his._

xxxx

Hawke sat amidst the crowd surrounding Varric in the canteen. He was spinning a tale of the Inquisitor's latest conquest. Hawke rolled her eyes and took a sip from her mug when the crowed gasped at the descriptions of Trevelyan felling a dragon with her magic.

 _As if no one's ever done_ that _before…_

She decided to stop listening. This was a double edged sword. She wouldn't have to hear about the Inquisitor's lackluster exploits, but whenever she let her mind wander on its own, it wandered to Rylen.

_You want him._

This time, she rolled her eyes at herself. Maker help her, she did want him. _A Templar_. She fucking _wanted_ a Templar like she couldn't remember wanting anything in a long while. Looking back, she didn't know how the bastard had done it. With his common sense and his wit, that damn accent and those blue eyes he'd somehow made her want him.

She wanted to trace his tattoos with her fingers. She wanted to send little sparks of magic down their clean lines across his skin and hear him groan with desire at her touch. She fantasized endlessly about him holding her, driving into her, solid and strong, heavy, immovable, unwavering with that relentless, accursed Templar stamina until she came so hard she set the fortress on fire with the resulting uncontrollable swell of her magic.

_Fuck. How had it come to this?_

And even more than that, _she didn't care._ She liked thinking about him. She liked being around him. It was so easy and quiet. He didn't have any agendas or issues. Even his lyrium addiction and his mission to overcome it was _honest_. It was an important and meaningful goal. It was something she could help him with and not lose herself in the process. She'd given enough of herself to too many people in the past. Rylen didn't seem to want to _take_ anything from her. He just wanted _her_.

She threw back the rest of her ale and slammed the tankard down onto the table. Nodding at Varric, she stood and left the bar. She made a decision and she felt good about it. She felt like herself for the first time in for- _absolutely-fucking_ -ever. So it was time to act like Hawke.

xxxx

Rylen was just signing off on the last report when Hawke burst into his office. She didn't even knock.

"Why of course you can come in, Marian. My office is your office." He waved his hand out at the small space.

"Let's fuck."

She blurted out the directive with the least amount of romance he'd ever heard in such a statement. He almost laughed but fortunately he caught himself. He slowly and neatly arranged the finished reports into a pile on his desk while deliberately ignoring her ridiculous order. He could feel her magic fuming at his lack of response. He had to bite back a smile.

When he was done with his unnecessary organizing he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. She was almost about to hurl an ice shard at him in reprisal for his silence so, he spoke. But he braced himself while he did it.

"I'm not going to ' _fuck_ ' you Marian."

Impatient rage sparked in her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her.

"Shh. Let me finish."

_Did you just shush the Champion of Kirkwall? The lyrium withdrawals must be robbing you of your sense._

He continued anyway. Rising from his chair he side stepped the desk to stand before her. He could feel her magic all over him now, angry waves of it held in check but ready to burst forth. She was a powerful mage and he knew that, without more lyrium, she could probably best him in a fight. The realization made him feel... _alive_. He inched closer to her, trying to make his physical presence every bit as large as her magic. When they were nothing but a breath apart, he leaned forward and whispered close to her ear, while he inhaled the scent of her hair.

"I can't _fuck_ you Marian, because when I finally have you, I want to _make love_ to you."

She was silent and still for a moment and he worried he'd laid it on a bit thick until, in a flash of movement, she was wrapped around him and her lips were on his.

He caught her up in his arms and let her assault him. She was heated passion, reckless abandon and tender aggression. She was everything he knew she would be for him, everything he knew she _was_. She'd simply forgotten.

He carefully turned them and backed her up to the desk. When he tried to sit her on it, she protested.

"We're not doing this on your desk."

The blood had long since rushed out of his head and he had to focus to process her objection when seconds ago, she was the one who demanded to be 'fucked' and then accosted him. He cleared his throat, trying to find a voice that wasn't slurred with lust.

"Why not?"

She looked up at him disapprovingly. "Because it's stupid and uncomfortable. Only an idiot with his head up his arse would try to make love to a woman on a desk." Then, her tone softened with an innocent vulnerability that he found every bit as arousing as her boldness. "Take me to your bed."

xxxx

Rylen picked her up and carried her from the office. They traveled the length and breadth of Griffon Wing to get to his rooms. Neither of them cared who saw them, nor were they even paying attention. It took them some time because every other step was interrupted by leisurely kisses and whispered words.

Hawke was dizzy with need when he kicked open his door and kicked it closed again. She scrambled out of his arms and started yanking off his armor as he guided her backwards to the bed. Pieces of metal clanged on the stone floor where she tossed them and garments of tight leather were stripped from him and discarded as well.

Soon he was as naked as the Maker made him, wearing only the black ink of his tattoos. Light from the moons shone in through a window and she took a step back to admire him. Just as she fantasized about, she reached up to his shoulders and started tracing the lines with the tips of her fingers. At first, she held back her magic, but he quickly sensed she was doing just that. He covered her hands with his where they rested on his chest.

"As you like to keep reminding me, I'm a Templar. If I was scared of magic, we wouldn't be here right now." He offered her a wicked grin. "Do your worst, mage."

She couldn't help but laugh. At herself, at him, at the fact that before she met him, her head might have exploded with rage at such an exchange. Now, it was just funny.

_And fucking sexier than anything she could ever have imagined._

Her fingers returned to their task, this time with the chill of ice instilled in them. She ran the cool magic along his heated skin and he shivered under her touch, all while his eyes burned for her. Lower and lower she traveled until she grazed his hips, then cupped his behind squeezing the taut muscles there and barely holding back a moan at the feeling of them. He let her continue her exploration, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth against a moan of his own when she gripped his shaft. She ran her hands up and down his length, hard and heavy and _huge_. He proudly let her work him grunting in time with her strokes.

Soon the urge to have him wouldn't be silenced any longer. She pushed him back onto the bed. He complied and rested on his elbows, his cock bobbing with the movement. While he watched, she undressed. Slowly, she exposed the rest of what she'd kept hidden from him and the rest of the world.

When she was as naked as he, she paused and let him look at her in the moonlight, just as he'd afforded her a view of him. But where a Templar is expected to have battle scars, no one would think a mage should be so marred. The silvery beams from the moon shone on the evidence that she'd lived a full and brutal life before he'd met her. Her time with the Red Iron and wounds from darkspawn that only a miracle prevented from being tainted showed on her body. There was a giant gash from the Arishok that almost killed her and a wound that still stung from Meredith's red lyrium sword.

She let him see them all. Some part of her knew that this man, more than any she'd ever met, would accept them, _accept her._

Rylen eventually rose to stand again. He mirrored her previous actions and ran his fingers along her scars. His touch was so _sure_ , he was so _sure_ of himself. No movement tentative, no movement wasted. When he finished with her scars, he caressed her hips, her arms, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts. He pulled her towards him.

His manhood pressed against her core and her legs almost buckled at the delicious feeling of it. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed up the slope of her shoulder. Nuzzling his nose against her ear, he told her just what he thought of her scars.

"So _fucking_ beautiful…"

She didn't think she could continue standing. The fire that shot through her at his words seemed to melt the very bones inside her limbs. She pushed him down again and climbed into bed after him.

Straddling his narrow hips, she ran her hands along the ripples of muscle at his flanks and up to his arms. She pushed them above his head, clasping their hands together and leaning her weight forward on them. The smirk he gave her renewed her desire to hear him moan for her. Without taking her eyes from his, she shifted her hips forward and back, gliding her wetness for him across his eager and twitching hardness. He lifted up his own pelvis seeking more contact which earned him a kiss.

She tangled their tongues and nipped at his lips. She tasted him, devoured him, all while gyrating against him. His smirk soon vanished and his intermittent moans turned to growls as he fought back against the grip she had on his hands where she kept them pinned above his head.

If he really wanted, he could have broken free. She would have been no match for his brute strength, but he let her have control. She somehow thought that giving up control in any situation was probably as hard for him as it was for her, so she didn't wait any longer to reward him for his sacrifice.

Lifting and tilting her pelvis, she positioned herself over his throbbing cock and with one smooth movement, she seated him fully inside her.

They both gasped at the contact. Eyes fell closed and breathing quickened. She stayed still, allowing herself to adjust to him. When she finally started moving, it was with a slow rise and fall. The slick up and down, the fullness, the stretch, the heat of him was sublime. She could tell it took all his effort to hold his position and let her have her way. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and his muscles were all tense beneath her. She kept up the deliberate pace as long as she could until the first stirrings of her climax made her movements erratic with the desperate need to have him take control and plunge deep inside her.

A slight lessening in the pressure she kept on his hands was all it took to communicate her desires to him. He broke free with no effort at all and flipped her over so fast her head spun. He moved his hands to cup her behind and then he slid them up the backs of her thighs, lifting them, pushing back on them so she was spread wide and exposed to him. Holding her open, he leaned his whole body forward and entered her with a force that shoved her backwards on the bed.

Hawke threw her head back at the feeling of him over her, thrusting into her now, his chest pressed to hers, their heartbeats pounding in time together. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he took them both over the edge. She was blinded by the ecstasy of letting go and she let the pleasure of him, of them, of their bliss, wash over her. He shouted her name as he crested and she shouted his, over and over until the intensity of her climax made the sounds of his name devolve into whimpers.

It seemed forever until they came down from their high. Sated, complete, calm. He collapsed down beside her, turning her so that her back was against his chest and he was holding her from behind.

Over the next hours, she lay awake, slowly regaining her senses. The desert night stretched out, enveloping them, blanketing their small oasis in the serenity of quiet darkness. Coherent thoughts started forming again. She realized she wasn't sure if she should stay. Everything she was feeling was all so new. _This_ was all so new. She was unable to decide what she should do. She ruminated on it even as she enjoyed the feeling of his breath where it gently tickled her skin. If he was asleep she was loathe to wake him. She tried as quietly as she could to slip away.

Quick like lightning, he tightened his arms around her.

"Stay, love." He said sleepily. "Please. Just _stay_."

She settled back into his embrace without question and with a smile on her face. She would stay. In his bed. In this place. With him. She would stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I enjoyed writing this so much!

**Author's Note:**

> This is also my entry for Rylen in our TMB collection that I promised I'd write ages and ages ago and am now just getting to. Blame Cullen. The goody goody bastard takes up all my time. ;)


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